Red
by Jude81
Summary: After the Mountain, Clarke leaves, only to realize she still has unfinished business. This story is completely written with 5 chapters including an epilogue.
1. Red Is All Around

Chapter 1: Red is All Around

The dead lay around like scattered broken, blushing China dolls. Limbs bent awkwardly, torsos slumped gracelessly across the patterned china and stained tablecloths. Red. All red. A trickle. A stream. A river of red winding its way lazily across the pocked concrete. A speckled soccer ball rolled slowly as the slim hand fell from it with a final thump. It rolled and bumped to a halt at Clarke's feet.

She shuddered but kept her eyes open, making herself stare at the ball and then follow the rusty path back to its owner. She had done this. This. This was on her. All of this burning death and broken souls. She stared at the slim, paled red hand. The perfectly trimmed little fingernails, the stark reddened flesh burned away. It looked like meat, and she felt the bile roll in her throat. She fought it back down. Not now. Not here. There was too much still left to do. The living were still hungry.

She made her way outside, walking across the torn earth. It would heal. The grass would grow back, and the birds would break their silence again. Yes, it would heal. She breathed deeply choking on the humid air, as she pretended that she hadn't just left a tomb, a tomb she had created.

The mountain was gone, in its place was a lonely crypt cradling the scattered, broken dead. No cemetery for the dead, no beautiful granite to mark the final resting places, like she had read in the books from before the war. Burying the dead had been civilized before the war, or so she thought; but now…now there was no peace, no polished wooden boxes to hold their bones, just an abandoned gaping hole in a shattered mountain.

"Close it. Close the door. It is time to go," she ordered her people. And so they did. And so they left.

They returned to the Ark, a bedraggled group, silent and wounded, bloodied and angry. She stood there watching the last of her 47 hobble through the gates. She hesitated and looked at Bellamy, her friend, her general, her comrade in arms who helped pull the lever. She couldn't bear it, bear the kindness in his dark eyes as he offered her forgiveness. Forgiveness that was not his to give. And so she turned away, shouldering the burden of her sins and the quiet anguish that she dared not utter.

She walked, and then she walked some more clutching her gun. Her last link to her people, to her life, to her sins. She kept walking, ignoring the blisters that formed and broke on her feet. She stumbled across roots and against trees, pushing forward into the night, until at last she dropped in a graceless heap, too tired to care if wild animals found her. It would be a blessing really, a final benediction, but survival instincts could not be denied.

Eventually she dragged herself to her feet, tucking her gun in the back of her ragged pants. She gathered dried moss and leaves, small sticks. She pulled the flint and steel from her pocket, a gift from Lexa. She tried to ignore how her stomach turned at the thought of the Trikru Commander. She struck them together. Once. Twice, willing a spark to flash into the tinder. She wasn't sure why she cared so much at this point, but she wanted that spark; needed that spark. Finally, it caught. The tinder crinkled and smoked and burst into a small flame. She knelt down and blew gently on it, slowly feeding the fire with sticks.

She looked at the flint and steel in her hand, and then pulled her arm back slightly as if to throw them into the woods, to rid herself of the gift of survival Lexa had given her, to empty herself of the lessons Lexa had taught her. Her fingers tightened and her breath caught. She choked back a sob. She couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to throw the pieces, she still needed that tether to Lexa, even after what the Commander had done, and so she gently tucked them back into her pocket and sat cross-legged in front of her fire.

She poked at the fire with a stick, staring at the glowing embers. Orange. Orangish Red. No red. Red like blood. She choked back a sob as she remembered the slim, pale hand edged in weeping red. She wanted to forget. Couldn't forget. Couldn't afford to forget. This would be her burden. Her penance, consumed by the faces of the dead, their bleeding eyes and ruptured skin. She was drowning in blood. Grounder blood. Finn's blood. Mountain man blood. Children's blood. There would be no rest. No respite. She felt the first tears dribble their way down her face, and she hunched forward toward the hazy embers glowing and swirling, and she imagined she heard them. Crying out for solace. For justice. The dead were hungry.

Morning came, the sun sluggishly peeking over the horizon casting a sickly glow across the tops of the trees. The blonde stirred quietly in her nest of dirt and leaves. She had finally closed her eyes when the stars had started to fade, but sleep had not ensnared her in its slumber. She sat up, ignoring the twigs caught in her hair as she brushed it out of her face. She sighed as she wiped her hands together in a vain attempt at removing some of the dirt.

She hesitated as she looked at the rusted brown edging her fingernails. She turned her hands over, gazing dispassionately at the dark encrusted whorls of her fingers. She spit in her hands and rubbed them together, but it did little to remove the dark stains imbedded into her skin. She sighed and for a brief moment thought she could feel the weight of the stains sinking into her skin, clawing through the sinew of her muscles and settling in her bones like a cancer.

She growled under her breath and heaved herself to her feet, kicking out the smoking embers of the fire, ruthlessly stomping the last flames out. This she could do at least, make sure she didn't leave a fire to burn down the forest. She had done enough damage here to the land, to its people, to her people.

No, not her people. No longer her people. She had sacrificed everything. Her heart, her soul, and hundreds of people all on the altar of survival. Survival of the fittest. The desperate, selfish desire to survive at all costs. Yes, was she really any different than Dante or Cage, who fought with grounder blood slugging through their veins? Was she any different than the Commander, who had sacrificed Clarke and the rest of the Sky People in order to bring peace to her people, in order for no more Trikru blood to stain the ground? No. She wasn't the good guy. Maybe it was true, maybe there weren't any good guys left. Maybe there had never been any good guys.

She turned away from the cooling ash and looked around her, turning slowly, listening to the silence. Silence. Where were the birds? She couldn't even hear the whispers of the wind dancing through the trees. Everything was still as if holding its breath, born down by the weight of what it had witnessed.

She closed her eyes and threw her arms out wide and slowly spun in place with her head tilted back in the flickering sunlight that cut through the dark, twisted trees. She spun once, twice, three times, until she felt dizzy and then she stopped. Her stomach roiled and she fought to keep whatever was left in her stomach down. She hadn't eaten since…since before. With Lexa.

She snarled under her breath, determined to not think about the brunette with the winsome smile that she shared only with Clarke. Her eyes snapped open and focused on the trees in front of her. This way. This was the way she would go. It didn't matter where she went, just as long as she went.

She strode off into the trees, trying not to limp as the ruptured blisters on her feet scraped against the inside of her boots that were slightly too big. She hadn't grown into them yet, these boots that had been worn before her by some other girl, in some other time up in the sky. She had probably been floated, and her boots were all that had been salvaged before sending her into the stars. Boots were priceless, human souls…not so much.

She walked steadily for a couple of hours. At least she judged it to be a couple of hours as the sun slowly moved across the blue sky. She heard water and made her way, picking around giant moss covered boulders, and over fallen snags. She smiled slightly when she broke through the tangled underbrush onto a bed of stones lining a small brook. She hesitated briefly remembering the creature that had almost eaten Octavia.

She scooped up a couple of larger stones the size of her fist and threw them into the water, waiting to see if she disturbed any monsters. Nothing. She picked her way over to a rock that shadowed part of the brook. She sat down and untied and her boots, grimacing as she pulled them off. She almost cried out as she felt the skin on her feet tear away, stuck to the inside of the coarse leather.

She choked back the hot tears. She wouldn't cry. She deserved this pain, feeling her skin tear. After all, she had melted the skin of 300 people, the least she could do was accept her own pain. She gingerly slipped her torn feet into the shallow, cool water groaning at the stinging of her raw flesh. She sat rigidly and then slowly relaxed as her feet adjusted the soothing flow of the water.

"Well. What are you going to do now?" She jumped slightly at the sound of her own voice, hoarse and ragged. She chuckled ruefully. Now she was talking to herself, but what did it matter, no one was there to judge or give her odd looks.

"Seriously, Clarke, what the hell are you going to do now?" She muttered out loud.


	2. May We Meet Again

Chapter 2: May We Meet Again

She swished her feet slowly in the water, watching the small eddies she created swirl around her ankles weakly pulling at her skin. She wished she could slip down into the little whirlpools and be sucked down into oblivion, float among the smooth stones and soft silt.

She closed her eyes listening to the gentle babbling water as it slid and swirled around mossy rocks, carving its way through the land with nothing to stop it, sliding around all obstacles. She let her mind drift too tired to fight her thoughts that betrayed her time and again as she pictured the Commander's face.

One tear slowly slipped between her lashes and wound down her cheek, barely clearing a path through the dried dirt staining her cheek. She remembered green eyes, shadowed with resigned resolution as the Commander informed her of the deal she had made with the Mountain Men. She could plainly hear the Commander's voice echoing in her mind, she pretended that the voice was tinged with sadness, and not the righteous belief that what the Commander was doing for her people was not only necessary but justified.

Another tear and then two dribbled their way down her cheeks as she remembered the soft voice shake slightly and whisper, "Not everyone. Not you." She let out a sob as she replayed the voice over and over again in her mind like a never-ending static film. Lexa's voice. Not the Commander's. Lexa's voice.

"May we meet again," she murmured out loud as she opened her eyes.

She pulled her feet out of the water and bent down and scooped water up in her hands scrubbing furiously at them, and then she clambered off the rock to lay on her belly, ignoring the stones digging in to her ribs. She pushed her face into the brook, letting the cool water caress her face wiping away the tears and dirt.

She held her breath as long as she could relishing the burn in her lungs as her flesh tightened and puckered screaming for oxygen. She jerked back suddenly, arching her back, her wet hair flinging in the air. She jerked to her feet. She was done feeling sorry for herself. She was alone and needed no one else. She would go to the Wastelands. She would leave behind the mountain and rivers, the trees, and the Commander who ruled the woods. But before she finally left, she had one more thing to do.

She ruthlessly shoved her feet back into her boots, ignoring the stabs of pain on the ruptured skin. She stomped her feet, glorying in the pain, and this small bite of penance, of absolution.

She started picking her way through the woods, back the way she had come. She walked for hours before angling off towards the setting sun, reasonably sure that she was going the right way. The Commander had been an efficient tutor when she had dragged Clarke through the words and then abandoned her to find her way back by orienting herself to the sun and stars.

She had eventually succeeded in finding her way back to Ton DC and then Camp Jaha, tired and hungry, dirty and weak. Had it really only been days ago? But she had succeeded, had learned one more lesson about surviving on an unforgiving earth. The Commander had nodded her head at Clarke when she stumbled into Ton DC, acknowledging her victory, but it had been Lexa whose eyes had glinted with concern when she noticed the cuts on Clarke's hands and knees from falling and crawling. Concern she had quickly masked, but concern that Clarke saw nevertheless.

Clarke shook her head angrily, attempting to dislodge thoughts of the Commander, of Lexa from her mind.

"No more. Just stop, Clarke, just fucking stop!" She muttered to herself as she trudged on towards the setting sun.

She made camp again, eating a couple handfuls of berries that she had found earlier in the day. Again, she made a small fire, and again she saw the faces of the dying writhing in the flames. Again, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to see the dead who danced across her eyelids, flickering in and out, ghostly patterns with names she didn't even know. The hollow in her chest grew, carving out space between her ribs.

Morning came, and Clarke groggily stamped out her fire, exhausted but determined. She made her way slowly through the woods, stopping to lean against trees every so often as she felt her lungs heave and catch as she tried to pull in oxygen from the heavy air. She stumbled on, forcing her body forward despite knowing that soon she would fall, and possibly not get back up. Days with little sleep and little food and water were exacting their pound of flesh, but she wasn't even sure she cared any more.

Eventually she made her way to the edge of the woods, she stood silently slumped against a tree. She peered across the field to the blinking lights, a battered beacon valiantly fighting the encroaching darkness. She wondered how long the power would last, how long they would last. She felt the tears burn her eyes, she hadn't sacrificed everything for them to fade out one by one, like a thousand burned out stars.

She slumped to the ground, drawing her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around herself and rested her forehead against her knees. She would wait until it was deep dark, when they would be too tired and worn down. She knew how to slip in and out. She had done it enough times over the last couple of weeks, as she fought against the constraints her mother had tried to place upon her.

FLASHBACK

"It's too dangerous, Clarke! You can't keep going out in the woods. There are just too many dangers! It isn't just these wild animals, although God knows that mutant gorilla is dangerous enough, but we can't even be sure that we can trust the grounders!" Abby pleaded with her stubborn daughter.

The blonde sighed as she continued to stuff spare supplies into her bag, "Mom, the Commander has given us her word that the alliance will hold." The blonde stopped trying to stuff her bag and looked up at her mom, noting the worry and exhaustion lining her face.

Her voice softened, "Mom, this alliance will hold. It has to hold, or I sacrificed Finn for nothing." Her voice trembled as she swallowed thickly, fighting back the tears as she pretended that that she couldn't still feel his blood staining her hands. "I won't let him die in vain."

Abby sighed as she walked over to the narrow cot in the room. She plopped down, tired and worn out with carrying the burden of leadership in an uncertain world. This new earth was like nothing she had imagined. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing Jake was with her, but he wasn't and that was her doing.

She opened her eyes when she felt the cot dip next to her, as her daughter sat next to her, their shoulders brushing lightly. "You need to trust me, Mom, trust that I know what I'm doing. I've been down here longer than you, and we can trust the Commander. We can trust Lexa."

END FLASHBACK

How wrong she had been. How deadly wrong she had been. Maybe she should have listened to her mom, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess. But what choice had she really had? She couldn't leave her people, her friends behind in that mountain to die, and the only answer had been an alliance with the Trikru, with the Commander. With Lexa. And Commander Lexa had turned out to be a treacherous foe.

FLASHBACK

"Maybe we can trust her, and maybe we can't. But it is still too dangerous out there, especially at night. You need to stay here, Clarke."

"Mom, I'm going. We need to prepare for this battle, but we also need to prepare for life after this war. We will take the mountain, and then what? We need to understand how the world works, we need to know how to plant crops and hunt animals. We need to know how to live beyond today, or there will have been no point in us returning to Earth! There will have been no point in the culling! We will all just die anyway."

Abby sighed, rubbing her burning eyes. Why did Clarke have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't she just listen? She stood up, straightening and turned and looked at Clarke, leveling her daughter with a silent command. "You will stay here, and you are not to continue to go to Ton DC without my permission. Do you understand? Do you UNDERSTAND?"

Clarke growled lightly under her breath, there were other ways to accomplish what she wanted. She stared at the dark grey floor, refusing to meet her mother's eye. "Yes."

"Good. It's late, you should sleep." Abby turned at the door and looked back at her daughter's bent head. She felt a momentary twinge of regret at being so hard on her child, but it was her duty to protect her, even if that meant protecting her from herself. "Clarke, we will talk about it more in the morning. I-I love you."

She hesitated, but when no reply was forthcoming, she simply sighed, resigned to her daughter's stubborn nature, and she slipped through the door leaving Clarke alone.

Clarke waited another 45 minutes, until the guards would change their post, and then she grabbed her bag and slipped quietly along the halls of the broken Ark, and quietly through the fence. She made her way quickly through the woods, knowing the way, having traveled it many times each day. She waited at the designated spot, looking upwards at the gleaming stars. Home. So far away. But home no longer. Her home was here now, on Earth, but sometimes…sometimes she missed the great dark expanse of sky littered with dying stars. She waited quietly, lost in the bright shine of what once was, and what could still be.

"Klark."

END FLASHBACK

She felt the tears drip silently down her cheeks as she gazed up at the sky. It was almost time, the guard would be changing soon. She looked up again watching as a dying star streaked through the ink sky leaving a trail of fire behind it. Perhaps it wasn't so much dying, but was really a rising phoenix. She snorted at the thought.

She got up, dusting the leaves off her pants and scrubbed at her face. It was time. She quickly made her way across the field, glad the moon was hidden by clouds. She made her away around back, noting the brush still covered the small hole in the fence. It had been her escape, and now it would let her back in to do what she must. She clambered through the hole, glad the electricity was still off for this part of the fence. She imagined the power was probably running low, and they needed to conserve as much as they could. She slinked through the shadows long the outer wall, surprised that there was only one guard near the hatch. She waited for him to turn and walk the perimeter, and then she grabbed the hatch door and lifted it slowly, mindful of the creaking.

She slipped in and dropped lightly to the floor, pressing herself back against the cold, metal wall. She waited breathlessly, worried someone might have heard her drop to the floor. Nothing. She carefully made her way down the corridor, staying in the shadows as much as possible, until she reached the door she was looking for. She pulled the bent wires from her pocket, a gift from Miller. She manipulated them in the lock, smiling when she felt it spring. She stepped soundlessly through the door and made her way to the shelves, grabbing a patched rucksack and filling it quickly with what she needed.

She turned and started to make her way back to the door, when one last object caught her eye. She hesitated, unsure if she should take it. She remembered reading about an old tradition from before the war. Perhaps it was both appropriate and necessary. She grabbed it and gently placed it in her rucksack. Finally.

She made her way quickly back the way she had come, ducking in to corners to avoid two guards who talked quietly as they made their rounds. She tuned them out, not wanting to listen as they whispered about the mountain and the wounded. Didn't want to hear the slight cut of fear in their voices when she caught the words "Grounders" and "Commander."

She stilled in the corner trying to quiet her breathing even after they had passed. She knew she needed to move. She needed to hurry if she wanted to reach her destination, and the longer she stayed, the more likely they would find her. But she worried, even though she had tried for days not to think about what the collapse of the mountain would mean to the alliance.

She shook herself out of her reverie. It was no longer her problem. Right?

She made her way back to the hatch, listening for guards footsteps counting the seconds, waiting for the pivot and then for the sound of his feet crunching on the dead grass to fade. She hopped up, popping the hatch, and made her way out; back through the hole in the fence, back across the field. She reached the shelter of the trees just as the moon peeked around the dark clouds. She had made it. She turned and set off away from the dark camp.


	3. To Make What Is Wrong, Right

Chapter 3: To Make What is Wrong, Right

The sun was high overhead by the time the first report of the Skai Prisa was brought to her.

"We did as you asked, Heda, kept an eye on the mountain, and we saw her return."

"Who return?" She held her breathe almost afraid of his answer.

The man shifted as he clutched his spear to his chest, "The Skai Heda."

She felt the air leave her lungs in a rush, and the blood rush to her face. The Destroyer of the Mountain had returned. The Skai Prisa. Clarke had returned.

She stood quickly from her throne, stepped down, and strode to her table covered in maps and a scaled model of the mountain. She fisted her hands on to the table, breathing deeply trying to quiet her chaotic mind. This changed nothing, and yet everything.

She heard Indra shift to her left, and she glanced up noting the tight compress of her general's lips as she fought to keep the words back. She knew. She knew how Indra had felt about the Skaikru, especially about the Skai Prisa, but she also knew how Indra had felt about Octavia.

"What is she doing there?" She silently congratulated herself on managing to hide the tremble in her voice from her warrior, though as she flicked her eyes to Indra, she noticed the twitch at the corner of her mouth. Indra wasn't so easily fooled.

The warrior shifted his feet and steadied his voice as he stared at his Heda's back, ignoring the tense line of her shoulders. It wasn't his place to question, only to relay what he had seen. "She came back with a bag, and she had some type of tools in the bag. She managed to pry open the doors, and then she disappeared inside. She didn't come out."

Lexa slowly turned, her face impassive as she gripped the handle of her dagger. "Didn't come out? What is she doing in there? What else did she have in the bag?"

He shuffled his feet again, ignoring the slightly strident tone in his Heda's voice, the anxious flick of her eyes. He took half a step towards her, and then froze when Indra shifted slightly to face him, her hand going to the handle of her sword. He settled back on his feet, relaxing his stance.

"I don't know, Heda, but I left scouts there with orders to immediately send a runner if she reappears or if anything changes at the mountain. I will return now." He bowed his head slightly.

"No, no. You need to rest. Go and get some food from the fires, Jax. Send Ryder in on your way out." Lexa waved him off and turned back to the table, picking up one of the little model trees. She rolled it between her fingers waiting for the inevitable as Jax quickly strode out of the tent, the leather flaps whipping through the air.

"We need to know, Heda. She may have gone back for weapons. Or maybe they aren't all dead. You ordered the door to remain closed." Indra reminded her gently, her dark eyes gleaming in the light as she stepped closer to the Commander.

"I know that, Indra," she hissed in reply. She dropped the tree onto the table, watching it roll in a tight circle and then stop. Her attention was immediately dragged from the table when she heard the flaps move.

"Heda, how may I serve you?"

She smiled briefly and strode to Ryder's side, noting that the cut on his face was healing nicely. He would have a nasty scar, but he would wear it proudly.

"I need you to return to the Mountain. I'm told that the Skai Prisa has returned. She is inside the mountain, and I don't know what she is doing, or…" She swallowed thickly, "or if she is dangerous."

"Yes, Heda."

"She knows you. She probably won't trust you, but I don't think she will shoot you first. I need you to find out what she is doing."

"Yes, Heda. Should I try to speak to her or offer her help?"

She heard Indra shift again, and she tried to cover her irritation. "No, Ryder, just observe, and if necessary, you may need to enter the mountain. I need to know if there are any Mountain Men alive, and what she is doing."

"Yes, Heda." Ryder turned and strode out of the tent.

She sighed as she made her way to her throne, she slumped down, allowing herself the momentary weakness. Indra wouldn't judge her for it, and she would keep her silence about it. She watched as her general made her way over to her, to stand before her.

"Heda, we…"

"Shof op." She said as she raised her hand, not wanting to hear what Indra would say about the Skai Prisa.

"Leave. Wait for word from Ryder, and then report back to me immediately."

"Yes, Heda," and with that she left leaving her alone in the tent.

"Oh, Klark," she murmured into the silence. She felt the tears threaten, and she swallowed them back refusing to be weak, to acknowledge the pounding of her heart, and the small spark of hope that had burst into flame in her chest.

He crouched in the tree watching the blonde as she worked. She had stripped off her jacket under the hot sun, and he noted the weariness in the lines of her body as she moved in and out of the mountain with her burdens. She had managed to prop the heavy door open, but still she staggered under the weight as she scrambled over the threshold time and again. He wasn't sure, but he thought she might know he was there. A couple of times she had stared right at him, but her eyes hadn't betrayed any recognition.

He looked up at the sun and looked at her again. He sighed, unsure if he should offer her aid. Heda had told him to only observe her, not to interact, but he worried about what would happen to her if he didn't help her. Which would be the greater sin against his Heda? To go against her word or to let the Skai Heda perish under the beating sun?

She grunted in surprise when she heard the heavy thump of the water skin as it landed at her feet. Perhaps she shouldn't have been so surprised. She had known he was out there, she could feel the weight of his stare, she just hadn't been entirely sure where he was hiding. She looked up in to the trees, straining and searching for him. There, where the leaves trembled. He blended in almost perfectly, in sync, in peace with the tree.

"Come down, Ryder, I know you are there." She turned away from him and continued working, ignoring the water skin.

She jumped in surprise when she heard the low voice next to her, "Skai Heda, you must drink."

She jerked her head and glared at him. She hadn't heard him jump from the tree and walk towards her. She eyed him warily for a moment, noting the sword strapped to his back, the daggers at his side, the green paint slicking his face.

He couldn't meet her eyes, wouldn't meet her eyes. She was the Destroyer of the Mountain. She had brought the mountain to its knees, drained it of its blood, something his people hadn't been able to do. He bent down and grasped the water skin, holding it out to her. He stared at a spot beyond her shoulder. He jiggled the skin at her, silently begging her to take it.

"No." She barked out the word, and turned back to what she was doing ignoring her screaming, aching muscles, and the sweat dripping into her eyes. Her hands were blistered and red. It was only fitting after all.

"Skai Heda…"

"No!" She barked out again refusing to look at him. She grabbed one of the wrapped bundles and started to drag it over. She flinched slightly when he reached out to grab the other end.

"No, Ryder. Just…No."

He froze unsure what to do. She couldn't do this alone. It was too much. He felt the clench in his gut. He had always admired her, and he had been in favor of the alliance. He had not been in favor of leaving her at the mountain, but he had not questioned his Heda. His duty, his life was to serve the Heda without question. But still his chest burned as he watched her.

"Who will continue this if you fall?" He waited. And nothing. She bent her head and kept working.

He turned and walked back into the trees, leaving the water skin where it lay. He needed to report to Heda immediately of what he had seen. He called the scouts back, sending two of them to Camp Jaha to watch. He didn't know if they knew the Skai Heda had returned. The other scout he ordered to remain and keep an eye on the blonde as she toiled under the hot sun. He mounted his horse, spurring him on to camp.


	4. We Were Always Going to End up Here

Chapter 4: We Were Always Going to End Up Here.

She didn't hear him walk away, but when she glanced up he was gone. She knew where. Ryder was loyal if anything, one of the Commander's most trusted warriors. He would report to Lexa, no the Commander, and she needed to finish quickly.

She stood up, her back clenching from being stooped over so much. She looked out over the field, her eyes blurring at the site of the torn earth. She sighed as she glanced over at the water skin. He was right. Damn him. He was right. She grabbed the skin and let the water splash into her mouth, greedily gulping the warm water. She drank half of the skin, and as she put the wooden cork back in and dropped it on the ground, she noticed the wrapped packet on the ground. She opened it slowly and found strips of dried meat and a hard cake of berries and roots. She smiled slightly, and ate a couple of strips of meat. She would need her strength.

She continued working through the afternoon, taking small breaks when the torn flesh of her hands and feet became too much for her. Soon the sun faded and the first start twinkled across the sky. She stopped finally. But she was only half done. She made a fire and sat there in the open field surrounded by reminders of her war, of her guilt, and pain. She was so tired, but still she refused the hot tears that clawed at her. She was afraid that if she let them have free reign, she would never stop, and she would drown in her own tears.

She listened quietly to the buzz of the insects and wondered briefly if Ryder was out there in the darkness, wondered if SHE was out there in the dark watching her. She ignored the stab of pain that lanced through her at the thought of Lexa. She pretended that she didn't still think of her, that she didn't know the exact shade of green of her eyes, that she didn't remember how she tasted or how her lips felt pressed against her. She curled up beside the fire and closed her eyes, thoughts of Lexa replaced with red. So much red.

She woke early, barely having slept. She ate some more of the meat and drank sparingly of the water. She wished she could use some of it to wipe the dried sweat and dirt staining her skin, but she only had half a skin left. She needed to make it last.

She stomped out the remaining ash of her fire and looked towards the trees, wondering who was out there. She could feel their eyes. It didn't matter. She turned back to her work.

She leaned against the tree watching the Skai Prisa work. She knew she couldn't see her as she was well hidden despite being so close. She noted the strain in her muscles as she moved her bundles back and forth, noted the grim set of her mouth, as she swallowed harshly. She rarely allowed herself any breaks, and she wasn't drinking the water.

She glanced up at Indra as she appeared at her side, "What do you want us to do?"

She thought for a moment, "Take the scouts back to camp. I will stay."

"Heda," she protested quietly, "it isn't safe. Let me stay with you."

"Safe? What do you think she is going to do, Indra? Attack me? I can take care of myself. Her strength is flagging." She shifted uneasily, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. The Skai Prisa had slowed considerably. She had stumbled a couple of times, and once she had fallen and laid in the dirt for a few minutes before pushing herself back to her feet.

"It may be flagging, Heda. But she bled the mountain dry. She is the Destroyer of the Mountain. The warriors whisper about her. Call her Skai Heda. She is dangerous, like a cornered and wounded pauna."

"Maybe she is, Indra. I will be careful. Take the scouts and go. Leave Ryder in the trees. Now go."

She pushed away from the tree gazing at the stumbling blonde. She didn't bother to watch Indra leave, but instead slowly made her way across the field. She stopped a few feet from the bent body, watching dispassionately as she dropped a bundle into the torn earth.

"Klark."

She froze, bent over the open earth. She could barely breathe. She was here. She had wondered if she would come. Had tried not to hope that she would. She slowly straightened, keeping her back to her, fighting the roiling in her stomach, silently pleading with herself to not be sick in front of the Commander; to not show weakness. Although, she would deserve it if she vomited on her.

She clenched her hands into fists, ignoring the torn flesh and blood. She turned slowly and faced her.

"Commander." She bit out coldly, glaring at the stoic face in front of her. Stoic, betraying nothing, and yet so beautiful. She silently cursed herself for noticing.

"Klark, what are you doing?" She tightened her fingers around her dagger. She had purposely left her sword at the tree line, but she wore her armor. She wasn't stupid, after all. The armor would hopefully stop a vengeful Skai Prisa's knife, even if she didn't want to appear to be a threat to Clarke.

"What am I doing? WHAT AM I DOING?!" She all but snarled, fury suddenly clenching her muscles. She barely restrained herself from lashing out at the figure in front of her. She felt the hot tears spill over her lashes. She shook in silent rage. She wanted to scream at her, throw something at her, punch her, and bury a knife in her ribs.

"What am I doing?" She hissed. "What the fuck does it look like I'm doing, Commander?" She snarled as she took a step towards her. "I'm burying the fucking dead!" She tore her eyes from the Commander's, not even bothering to fight the tears as they raged down her cheeks. She gestured towards the field, towards the mounds of broken earth, towards the wrapped bodies that still needed to be buried.

Lexa spared a glance around. She knew of course what the Skai Prisa had been doing, but she hadn't known why exactly. She counted the mounds, fifteen and twenty-one bundles still left. She swallowed hard when she noted that many of the mounds were quite…small. Some of the bundles were small. She eyed the smallest bundle, it wasn't quite two feet long. She looked away quickly. Of course. Of course she had come back for the dead.

"We burn our dead." It was the wrong thing to say.

The blonde laughed harshly. "We float our dead, launch them into space, except they weren't usually dead yet when we launched them." She laughed again, the edge of hysteria tainting her laugh. She picked the shovel back up, hesitating momentarily as she looked at it and then flicked her eyes back to the Commander.

Lexa eyed her warily, not sure what to make of this Clarke, not sure what she would do. She met her gaze, and then raised an eyebrow as she flicked her gaze to the shovel in the blonde's hands. She waited patiently.

"Why are you here, Commander?"

"I came to see if there were any Mountain Men alive."

"Of course you did," she muttered as she slammed the tip of the shovel back into the ground, stomping on it and digging deeply into the earth. She bent and scooped up the earth throwing it over her shoulder. She threw it wide, and chuckled as the Commander hastily backed up to avoid the flying dirt. She slammed it back into the ground and stomped on it again, ignoring the Commander.

"And…And I…"

She slowed her movements as she heard the uncharacteristic hesitancy in her voice, heard the stutter. She gently rested the tip of the shovel on the earth and waited, her back half-turned to the Commander. She waited patiently.

"I wanted to see for myself that you were ok."

She laughed and choked as it quickly turned into a sob. She leaned her head on her fist that clasped the top of the shovel's handle. Her shoulders shook silently. She was so weak, and so tired of trying to be strong. She didn't care anymore if she was weak in front of the Commander.

The brunette stepped forward carefully and reached out a hand, she hesitated, unsure if she should touch her, but wanting to desperately. She had dreamed of the Skai Prisa every night, dreamt of her screams at the hands of the Mountain Men. She had woken up in a sweat every night, tearing at the furs that trapped her limbs. Every night her name had been on her lips as she jerked awake from her nightmares. Every night the name had tumbled past her dry lips as her chest heaved and the tears clouded her eyes, and the sobs smashed against the back of her teeth. Every night she bit back the sobs and tears refusing to be weak. She had brutally smashed down any hope, even when she was told that the Skaikru had defeated the mountain that the Skai Prisa had raged through the mountain killing them all. She had wept silent tears when they told her that she had left her people. And now, she was here. Returned to the mountain. But so far away.

She let her hand drop to her side as she stood there slightly to the side. She was close enough to touch, close enough to smell the sour blood, dirt and sweat. And she wanted to. She wanted to touch her again like she had in the tent. She wanted to curl her hand around her neck and pull her into her body. She wanted her hand to find purchase on her hip, and hold the blonde to her. She wanted the Skai Prisa to find her rest with her, in her arms. But she had given up that chance, had brutally crushed it when she left her at the mountain, ignoring the broken "Leska." She was the Commander, not Lexa, not Leska.

She heard the sniffles and watched as the blonde lifted her head. "Go away, Commander. You are not needed here." She drove the tip of the shovel back into the ground. "Just leave. You are good at leaving."

And she stomped on the shovel tearing the earth apart again.


	5. And We Bury Ourselves

Chapter 5: And We Bury Ourselves

She turned and started to walk away, back the way she had come. She was right she was not needed here. The best she could do was leave her here. More than half-way across the field she looked up and met Ryder's eyes as he crouched in the tree. He cocked his head at her and looked to the Skai Heda. He looked back at his Heda, and slowly shook his head. She took another step forward, and he shook his head harder. She sighed and fiddled with the head of the dagger, worrying it between her fingers. She grunted at Ryder, and then turned and made her way back to the Skai Prisa.

She stopped a couple of feet next to her. "Why 36 bodies? There were close to 300 in the mountain." She waited silently watching as the blonde continued to tear at the earth with her shovel. She finally threw the shovel down, and climbed out of the hole. She straightened and met the Commander's eyes.

"Thirty-six innocents," she spit out. She gestured around wildly, "Eighteen adults who helped us, Commander, they fought against their own people to save us. Maya was one of them, and I killed her. She saved Bellamy and Jasper. She saved us all. I killed her!" She stepped closer to the Commander, until they were almost touching. She remembered the last time she had done this, had pushed forward into the Commander, backing her up into the table.

"And 18 children. They were children, Lexa!" She yelled, unable to contain her anger anymore. She grabbed the Commander's red sash, wrapping it around her fist. "They didn't ask for the Trikru blood, they didn't ask for any of this! They were innocent, Lexa, they were babies." She sobbed the last words out, falling forward into the armored covered chest before her. She rested her forehead against the armor, sobbing, unable, and unwilling to stop.

She felt the tears burn their way down her cheeks, and the snot slide down her lips. She lifted her head slightly and rubbed her nose on the armor before her, slightly pleased, and not caring what the Commander thought of it.

She stiffened when she felt the hands slide up and grasp her shoulders, neither pushing her away nor pulling her in. They just rested warmly on her bare, sweaty skin, holding her in place as she continued to sob, her body shaking with the force of the pain ripping through her. All her guilt and anger bleeding out around her.

She felt her throat tighten with unshed tears, and she tried not to grimace when she noticed the blonde wipe her snot on her. She supposed she deserved that. Her hands rested gently on the shoulders, and she ignored the feel of the warm skin, tried not to think about how it would feel to trace all of her warm skin with her hands.

She took a deep breath and then let it rush out in a deep sigh. She slowly slid her arms around the heaving shoulders and gently pulled the shaking body to her. She smiled slightly when she felt her shift and move into her body, felt the wet face bury itself in her neck. She tightened her arms when she felt the Skai Prisa's arms slide around her waist. She tensed slightly when she felt the hand nudge her dagger. She supposed she would deserve it if the blonde decided to grab the dagger and bury it between her ribs. She wouldn't blame her. She relaxed when she felt the hand slip past the dagger and come to rest at the small of her back.

They stood there quietly, neither speaking as Clarke's sobs slowly faded into hiccups and more snot. A lot of snot.

Clarke pulled back out of Lexa's embrace. She didn't want to think too hard about how good it had felt, how right it had felt to feel those strong arms hold her. She couldn't think about it. Lexa had betrayed her. She didn't think she could forgive her for that.

Lexa gazed at the wet, slightly red face in front of her, the swollen eyes and snot dripping down her lip. How was it that this wreck was still so beautiful and strong? She smiled slightly and picked up the hem of her red sash and gently ran it across the wet cheeks, drying the tears. She slid the sash across her lips and under her nose.

"Blow," she commanded gently.

For a brief moment nothing but red filled her vision and Clarke tensed as the hollow feeling inside her chest grew threatening to swallow her as her vision was filled with blood and ruptured flesh. She felt terror claw at her ribs, breaking her into little pieces and then she heard the gentle voice reach inside and grab her.

"Blow." And she did.

Wet blue eyes met soft green as the Commander, no as Lexa smiled gently at her, dabbing at her nose one more time. She let the sash drop from her fingers. They stood there silently. Each waiting for the other to speak, until finally…

"Klark, let me help you."

"No," she whispered, the words breaking as they left her chapped lips, "this is my burden, my penance. These are my sins, and I have to pay for them. I burned them all alive, just as I did your 300 warriors."

Lexa's lips tightened as she gazed at the Skai Prisa, noting the determined glint in her weary eyes.

"Then let me also pay for my sins, Skai Heda." She murmured, hoping the blonde would understand as she acknowledged what her warriors already knew.

"We are leaders, and we make the hard choices, the choices no one else can live with, so that they CAN live. What I did, Klark…" She stumbled over the words.

"What I did, Klark, was not personal. I could not choose with my heart. I had to choose with my head," she implored the blonde. "I had to do right by my people. That is my burden, my sacrifice. I can never not fight for them, not put them first. B-but, Klark," and her voice cracked as she pushed the words past her chattering teeth.

"If I could have chosen with my heart, I would have chosen you. I would have always chosen you." She hung her head, the tears swimming in her vision. She let them fall silently drop by drop. Maybe it was weakness, but she didn't care anymore. She wanted to be weak for Clarke, she could be weak for her. Here surrounded by mounds of earth and bundled bodies, just the two of them drowning in their sins.

She raised her head and wiped the tears from her eyes, she strode over to Clarke's pack, noting the second shovel. She quickly peeled off her armor and let it drop to the ground, not bothering to pick it up. She glanced down at the sash, a splash of red against the brown and grey earth. Blood. So much blood. She grabbed the shovel and turned around looking at the wide-eyed blonde. She wouldn't let her bear this alone. She wouldn't leave her again.

She walked over to her and raised the shovel then jammed it into the ground, splitting the earth open. She would pour all of her rage, pain, and grief into this earth. They would bury the dead, the innocent, and give them final rest.

THE END

And…there is an epilogue.


	6. We Are What We Are

Epilogue: We Are What We Are

They sat quietly in the gathering dusk, their shoulders brushing against each other. They passed the water skin back and forth, enjoying the cool breeze playing across their shoulders. They had done it, side by side they had dug graves for each of the thirty-six innocents. They had laid them to rest, there was nothing more to do.

FLASHBACK

"What now?" asked Lexa as she straightened from patting down the last shovelful of earth on the last grave. The blonde let her shovel drop and gazed at the thirty-six mounds of fresh, broken earth. Some were so small. She shook her head and went back to her rucksack. She dug through it until she found what she was looking for. It was the book that she had stopped and taken at the last moment from the supply closet on the Ark.

She looked at cracked maroon leather and the faded gold lettering on the cover. The pages were yellow, thin to begin with but now brittle with age.

She walked over to stand next to Lexa. "It's a Bible. Before the war, many people believed in one God, and they called him Jesus. This is his Holy Book. I read that they used to bury their dead and place, beautiful granite markers on top of the burials. They would read from this book, something called a Psalm.

She shuffled the Bible lightly in her hands and glanced at the brunette. "I guess it was their last goodbye."

Lexa nodded. She had heard of the Bible in Polis, as a matter of fact she had read one, and while she hadn't understood all of the Psalms, she had read them, and she knew which one Clarke meant. She reached out and carefully took the Bible from the blonde. She gently flicked through the pages until she found out it. She handed the Bible back.

"Here, Klark."

She took the Bible, hands shaking slightly, worried that maybe this wasn't right. She didn't know what the Mountain Men's traditions were, and the Traveler's Prayer wasn't appropriate. She glanced at the page, barely making out the words. She took a deep breath.

"The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…."

Her voice swept gently over the clearing and Ryder smiled. It was good. It was good to say ancient words of comfort from before the world rent itself in two. The dead would hear, and they would understand.

END FLASHBACK

She wasn't ready to go, wasn't ready to leave the blonde. There was still so much between them, unspoken, and untried.

"What now?" Lexa whispered.

"I'm leaving for the Wastelands."

Her breath caught, and she choked back the desperate words that threatened to pour from her mouth. She was Heda, and Heda didn't beg. But maybe Lexa did.

"Klark…"

"No, Lexa. I can't stay here. I can't go back to Camp Jaha. I can't face them, and I can't stay in the woods, not with the Trikru."

"I get it, you know." The blonde shifted and leaned slightly harder into Lexa's shoulder. "I get it. I don't understand how you could leave me, but I get why you left me. I wish I didn't, but I get what you did, and why you did it." She laughed bitterly, "I did the same thing. I killed 300, thirty-six of whom were innocents so I could save 47. Maybe my mom was right, maybe there are no good guys. Maybe it's just humans in a harsh world, all of us trying to survive by whatever means possible."

The blonde shuffled her feet refusing to look at the girl next to her, for that was what she was, a girl. She was just Lexa here, not the Commander, not the Betrayer; just the girl with whom she had thought she could build a new and better future for both their people.

Lexa sat their quietly barely breathing, the tears gathering in her eyes. She was so tired of sacrificing, of leaving, of losing. Why couldn't she have what she wanted? Just once! After Costia, she never believed she could love again, had never wanted to, but then Clarke came crashing into her world; defying and challenging her at every moment. She came streaking down from the sky, a burning star only to rise from the ashes a burning Phoenix. Her people called her Skai Heda for good reason.

"Klark, your people…they need you. I know you don't want to return, but you must. You came to me wanting to learn how to survive down here, you asked me to teach you how to hunt, to plant crops, so your people would have a future, a life after the war. Well the war is over, and it is time to live. WE deserve THAT!" She pleaded with the blonde, turning to face the impassive features. She could just make out the blonde's profile in the twilight.

"I need you," she whispered brokenly as she leaned in and pressed her wet lips against the soft cheek.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I had to leave you on that Mountain, that I had to abandon you, but I did." She felt the tears drip down her face, her lips just barely pressing against the Skai Heda's cheek near her ear.

"I won't apologize for saving my people, but I'm sorry you had to bring the mountain to its knees by yourself. I'm sorry for all of the dead." She leaned her forehead against the blonde's cheek feeling the last vestiges of hope wither and die as the blonde remained silent.

She started to pull away, resigned to the fact that she had lost again, and it was her own fault. She felt the head turn and a startled whisper flushed past her lips as she felt the slightly chapped lips press softly into hers. She felt the tender sigh against her mouth as the blonde pushed into her body, and Lexa groaned at the taste of the blonde's mouth as her lips opened against her own. She lightly swiped Clarke's bottom lip with her tongue and then pulled it gently between her lips, sucking lightly. She smiled into the kiss when she felt the shaking arms reach up and clasp around her neck and the body move fully into her own.

Clarke wrapped her arms tightly around Lexa's neck and then shoulders, flushing her body tightly against her own. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt the hollow ache in her chest slowly lessen, and her mind quieted at last, and the screams died down, the last flickering ghosts swept from behind her eyelids.

She pulled back slightly and looking into ageless, wet green eyes that had seen lifetimes of loves and losses. This was her lifetime, their lifetime.

"I don't think I can ever forgive you. B-but, Leska, I can live with it. I can live with what we've done." She tightened her hold around the brunette.

"We are what we are, and it's enough."

THE END. FOR REAL.


End file.
